The Battle Ground | Page 5

made es'll do hit. You des wrop er hank er yo' hyar roun' de hine foot, honey, en' w'en de night time done come, you teck'n hide it unner a rock in de big road. W'en de devil goes a-cotin' at de full er de moon--en he been cotin' right stiddy roun' dese yer parts--he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a mile off."
"A mile off?" repeated the child, stretching out her hands.
"Yes, Lawd, he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a mile off, en w'en he tase hit, he gwine begin ter sniff en ter snuff. He gwine sniff en he gwine snuff, en he gwine sniff en he gwine snuff twel he run right spang agin de rock in de middle er de road. Den he gwine paw en paw twel he root de rock clean up."
The little girl looked up eagerly.
"An' my hair, Aunt Ailsey?"
"De devil he gwine teck cyar er yo' hyar, honey. W'en he come a-sniffin' en a-snuffin' roun' de rock in de big road, he gwine spit out flame en smoke en yo' hyar hit's gwine ter ketch en hit's gwine ter bu'n right black. Fo' de sun up yo' haid's gwine ter be es black es a crow's foot."
The child dried her tears and sprang up. She tied the frog's skin tightly in her handkerchief and started toward the door; then she hesitated and looked back. "Were you alive at the flood, Aunt Ailsey?" she politely inquired.
"Des es live es I is now, honey."
"Then you must have seen Noah and the ark and all the animals?"
"Des es plain es I see you. Marse Noah? Why, I'se done wash en i'on Marse Noah's shuts twel I 'uz right stiff in de j'ints. He ain' never let nobody flute his frills fur 'im 'cep'n' me. Lawd, Lawd, Marse Peyton's shuts warn' nuttin ter Marse Noah's!"
Betty's eyes grew big. "I reckon you're mighty old, Aunt Ailsey--'most as old as God, ain't you?"
Aunt Ailsey pondered the question. "I ain' sayin' dat, honey," she modestly replied.
"Then you're certainly as old as the devil--you must be," hopefully suggested the little girl.
The old woman wavered. "Well, de devil, he ain' never let on his age," she said at last; "but w'en I fust lay eyes on 'im, he warn' no mo'n a brat."
Standing upon the threshold for an instant, the child reverently regarded her. Then, turning her back upon the fireplace and the bent old figure, she ran out into the twilight.

II
AT THE FULL OF THE MOON
By the light of the big moon hanging like a lantern in the topmost pine upon a distant mountain, the child sped swiftly along the turnpike.
It was a still, clear evening, and on the summits of the eastern hills a fringe of ragged firs stood out illuminated against the sky. In the warm June weather the whole land was fragrant from the flower of the wild grape.
When she had gone but a little way, the noise of wheels reached her suddenly, and she shrank into the shadow beside the wall. A cloud of dust chased toward her as the wheels came steadily on. They were evidently ancient, for they turned with a protesting creak which was heard long before the high, old-fashioned coach they carried swung into view--long indeed before the driver's whip cracked in the air.
As the coach neared the child, she stepped boldly out into the road--it was only Major Lightfoot, the owner of the next plantation, returning, belated, from the town.
"W'at you doin' dar, chile?" demanded a stern voice from the box, and, at the words, the Major's head was thrust through the open window, and his long white hair waved in the breeze.
"Is that you, Betty?" he asked, in surprise. "Why, I thought it was the duty of that nephew of mine to see you home."
"I wouldn't let him," replied the child. "I don't like boys, sir."
"You don't, eh?" chuckled the Major. "Well, there's time enough for that, I suppose. You can make up to them ten years hence,--and you'll be glad enough to do it then, I warrant you,--but are you all alone, young lady?" As Betty nodded, he opened the door and stepped gingerly down. "I can't turn the horses' heads, poor things," he explained; "but if you will allow me, I shall have the pleasure of escorting you on foot."
With his hat in his hand, he smiled down upon the little girl, his face shining warm and red above his pointed collar and broad black stock. He was very tall and spare, and his eyebrows, which hung thick and dark above his Roman nose, gave him an odd resemblance to a bird of prey. The smile flashed like an artificial light across his austere features.
"Since my arm is too high for you," he said, "will you have